Asian Couple at The Shake Shack, Madison Square Park, New York City on a Sunday in August 2006
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photo/art Sans Souci

The line for the burgers, fries, shakes and cones

was like a snake,

winding and twisting around

people,

trash cans, and

little running children.

It thickened and thinned

as people stood in twos, threes and fours

grinding their feet in the dusty path

in anticipation of the “Best Burgers” in New   York City.

It was a Sunday, and unlike during the week, the businessmen in suits were home watching the game, and

running shoes were de rigueur.

People seriously studied the menu,

handwritten and weathered, on an easel board; they walked up to it

like they were meeting royalty,

bowed to it,

as their dogs yanked at their leashes,

or, if they had no dog, there was usually a baby tossing toys from a stroller,

and invariably the babies and the dogs became acquainted.

On the line were Asian manikins.  A man and a woman.

They were perfection on a Sunday,

She, a bit more formal

than necessary,

He, formally informal.

They ordered, waited, then as their number was called,

picked up the burgers, fries, and shakes, that were

stuffed into cardboard carriers,

and carefully walked over the dusty pebbles and

sat at a one of the small metal tables.

He stood tall,

his head was shaved, thick Cartiers framed his eyes,

his arms were strong from exercising;

red and green tattoos ran up and down them.

Chains hung from his neck, and another, from the belt loop of

tight jeans ending in

a clanging of keys.

His name according to his tee shirt, was Comme des Garcons 2001.

Her black hair was pulled up and off her face revealing

15 mm Mikimoto pearl earrings;

she guarded her silk pale green and turquoise patterned

shirtwaist (with lace petticoat artfully revealed at the hem)

from the ketchup; she tapped her gold jeweled

Manolo flats against the table leg.

He had his chocolate shake, she her Fiji water with the blue cap.

He examined his thick burger, she studied her fries before dipping

them in the small white paper cup filled with ketchup.

They patted their mouths, cleaned off the table.

She picked up her Kate Spade bag and they walked off on

the rocky path.

They were perfection;

they never said a word.

Article on the Shake Shack